


Decay

by Dorminchu



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Dark, Gen, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorminchu/pseuds/Dorminchu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief moment within Instrumentality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decay

He opens his eyes and finds himself in Misato's apartment. Beige walls, wooden floor. The light is still flickering.

Asuka is slumped at the kitchen table, head down, shoulders hunched. There is a pot of fresh coffee next to her. He can smell it. Two white mugs sit at the opposite side of the table, untouched, their color dull with years of use. Misato's vast collection of empty bottles still occupies the counter.

Shinji makes his way over to her.

"Asuka?"

She does not react, and this surprises him; he expects her to flinch, to hurl any number of colorful profanities in his face.

Yet she does not react.

A hand is laid upon her shoulder. "Asuka?" he says again, mouth dry, palms clammy. She curls deeper into herself, knuckles white. That's a sign, at least. "Are you scared?" he asks. "I...I'm scared, too. Misato and Rei, they're—" And then she looks at him, eyes glinting with indifference and cold understanding. She is his age, and yet for the first time in a long time she regards him through the eyes of one beyond her years.

She does not make one of her characteristic, biting remarks; no, she raises her head, rises to her feet and shoves the chair out of her way. It screeches noisily in the empty room, leaving skid marks on the varnished wood.

He hesitates, gauging the danger in her tone. Despite this, he moves closer, extending a hand.

"I—I want to help you, Asuka."

"Don't lie to me," she says coldly. "Misato and Rei, they frightened you, and your father frightened you, and so you came to me, Shinji."

She's never talked like this. Maybe it's another effect of Instrumentality. Shinji doesn't know.

He denies this. "I need your help—"

"Get the fuck away from me!" she shouts, and in his haste to comply his back slams painfully into the counter. He recovers as she advances, moving to the next side of the table.

"Asuka—" She is far too close now. Their noses brush.

Déjà-vu.

"Shut up!" She delivers a violent kick to his shin. "You don't understand anything!"

"I—I do understand. I want to understand!" It's a lie, and he knows it.

Asuka lets out a snarl of contemptuous laughter. "Oh, you _want_ to _understand_? You think you can _save_ me? That's your conceited ego talking!"

"But how am I supposed to understand? You don't tell me anything!"

And now, despite the untold fury burning in her eyes, she looks injured. But she says nothing. He goes on:

"I _want_ to help you, Asuka. I want to be with you."

An ominous silence follows this proclamation.

"You expect me to believe you?" Her tone is incredulous. And Shinji realizes she knows everything.

"Why won't you listen to me?" he shouts at her. She snaps, finally, moves forward and shoves him hard. His arm collides with the coffee pot and it falls. Its contents spill; mostly over his shoulder, though a few drops spatter the side of his face.

The floor rushes up to meet him with a fresh wave of pain, though the burn in his shoulder distracts him. More precisely, it should distract him. It does not.

Asuka sneers. "You're pathetic."

This is familiar.

He is shivering on the floor, reliving memories. And it hits him, slowly, the acknowledgement of her rejection.

She is watching him. Slowly, very slowly, his trembling ceases. He rises to his feet, unsteady, lurching towards her.

_Don't leave me—_

The table is upturned. She does not react. Furious, he seizes the chair. It splinters upon impact with the floor.

" _Don't do this to me_!" He shrieks at her. She does not give the slightest sign of fear or empathy.

"No."

He is silent. His hands are twitching, and now the months of rage and frustration, of fear and desperation festering in his chest are given free reign.

He lunges forward, wraps his hands around her throat and _squeezes_. That wipes the smirk off her face. In fact, she's staring in a mixture of alarm and repugnance. He lifts her, then. A trickle of saliva escapes from the corner of her mouth. She does not struggle.

He almost wants her to.

* * *

_A/N: I wrote this, blind as a bat to the Evangelion fandom. But I still want your criticism._


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